


Witch Doctor

by ShadowBiscuit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bewitched Sam, Bottom Dean, Crying, Dean Hates Witches, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilty Sam, Hurt Dean, Hurt Sam, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, In a way, Just ow everywhere, Kinda oblivious Dean, M/M, Repressed sexual desires, Self-Hatred, Sex Magic, Sweetness, Top Sam, Trapped In Elevator, Witches, but happy ending, but no actual sex, no roughness, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4764668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowBiscuit/pseuds/ShadowBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has been longing for his brother for a very long time now. There was simply no other way of putting it—he wanted Dean. <br/>That, obviously, could never happen. He knew that, went to great lengths not to ever reveal any of his hidden, and very much twisted, feelings to his big brother.<br/>Then one day, while on a hunt, everything that he's been working so hard to keep concealed shatters, along with every single shred of Sam's self-control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Saving people.

Hunting things.

The family business.

But what if family became something more?

What if one day, you wake up to the fact that your eyes see the world in another way? What if what used to be a normal, everyday activity, suddenly gets turned into torture, something you have to force yourself into?

Sam Winchester grew up in a family without a mother. And while having a single dad wasn’t such an odd thing these days, having a father who hunted monsters to avenge their mother’s death was. Sam had to accept the fact that the boogeyman in the closet, the monster under the bed was real, but even if he was scared, he at least had his brother. Dean Winchester always stayed with him while dad was out. Sam worried each time, curling up in the motel bed and praying for their father’s safe return, but it got better with Dean sitting by his side. Listening to his jokes helped, feeling the gentle pats on his back helped, seeing that cheeky smile helped. It slowly made Sam enjoy this life, come to terms with it and accept it as his own. He had a loving brother and a father, something not everyone had, after all.

And as the years went by he even started hunting himself, killing the monsters with his own two hands. The first time was hard, since even though it wasn’t human, he still had to take a life. But then Dean was there, right next to him and praising him. Sam always felt happier when he heard his brother’s praises than dad’s, and it wasn’t long before he began idolizing the man. He wanted to be like Dean, wanted to hear him laugh, to make him smile, to feel those eyes on him, feel his chest well up with some of the rarest and happiest emotions when his brother would acknowledge his efforts.

He wanted Dean to be his everything, wanted him all for himself. When he lost his virginity, bragging about it to Sam, he felt hurt like never before, more painful than a werewolf’s claws on his skin. When he kissed girls in front of him, flirted with them so openly, Sam felt like yelling and crying at the same time, anger and sorrow confusing him and locking his heart and lips. Whenever Dean saw that something was off, whenever he asked him if he was alright, Sam just nodded and said nothing.

When, after a while, staying silent couldn’t fool his brother any longer, he just told him that he was fine, made up a small lie and just said he was fine…

And he has been lying about it ever since.

Back then, he didn’t know what it was. That’s why he shut up, why he never mentioned the pain, the unbearable hurt to Dean, why he kept it all bottled up. Only later, after Sam had his own first kiss and felt the touch of a woman, when he felt his heart beat faster in his chest, only then did he realize why it felt so similar. Why, when an attractive girl smiled his way or kissed him, it felt so much like when his brother was smiling. And comparing them would be wrong, because even then, Dean’s radiant smile, his silly grins and that hearty laugh, they were much stronger than anything Sam has ever, or would ever witness.

The day he realized that he has fallen in love with his own brother was the worst day of his life.

Because he knew, and now that he did, he wouldn’t be able to ignore those persistent emotions any longer. The strange happiness one would experience while in love only lasted for a second, because the next his heart sunk. The love of his life was so close, always by his side, but still too far. He was family, he was blood, he was Dean Winchester, his own big brother, who loved him, of course he did, but not in the way Sam wanted him to. It was like torture, the days that followed the realization. He became self-aware of his own behavior, how his eyes lingered on Dean, how he smiled even when his brother’s jokes weren’t even funny, how whatever he did, Sam would find something beautiful and just adorable in it. He wanted to hug him longer than necessary, wanted to share more casual touches, then he wanted those touches to be more, so much more than just brotherly.

Sometimes his own thoughts scared him. Confusion was followed by fear and then, finally, disgust. Guilt. How could he love Dean? What kind of monster was he? Surely worse than the ones they hunted… His brother clearly had no feelings of those sorts toward him, which was just as well, since that was normal. That was how it should be like, how brothers, family should be like. So why couldn’t Sam stop it? Why couldn’t he, no matter how much he tried, just make those corrupt thoughts and feelings leave him? He tried so desperately, even going as far as punishing himself for every urge, every thought at the back of his mind. It hurt, the way the small switchblade cut into his skin, but he kept doing it anyway. He left the cuts on his thighs and chest, places he hoped nobody would notice and, thankfully, they didn’t. But then he had to stop because it wasn’t working, the pain slowly turning into something different, and it horrified him to such an extent that he spent several hours in the bathroom that day, emptying his stomach between crying fits.

He became numb to the pain, had unconsciously trained his body to withstand it, and since every time he cut himself the only thing on his mind was Dean, the sick thoughts of his brother’s full lips on his own, the pain became…pleasure. He was so ashamed, so repelled by himself, unable to even form a coherent sentence when their dad finally broke down the locked door and dragged him out of the bathroom. He did manage to come up with some lame excuse, but that didn’t change anything, because he knew. He knew the sort of abomination he has become and he despised it, loathed it with every fiber of his being. Who could love their own brother, after all? Another male, fine, he could still accept that, but Dean? Family? It made him toy with the thought of running away, of disappearing, or simply ending this nightmare and spare John and Dean the work of putting the monster he has become down themselves.

But that would have been selfish. He knew that Dean would have loved to watch him leave if only he knew what was going on inside of his head. He knew that their father would have disowned him, belted him, beat him back on the right track if he knew. So of course, he never said a word, not even when his oblivious brother wandered around in the motel room without anything but underwear on. He made sure not to even glance at him, made sure not to let his hand stay on Dean’s shoulder even a second longer than necessary, and made damn sure not to seem hurt each time Dean didn’t come back at night. He did enjoy the hugs, though. It would have been a lie to say that he didn’t, because he loved them, wished he could stay like that forever. He kept indulging in these guilty pleasures, sometimes taking risks and going in for a hug or a slight touch himself, but he never took it too far, not ever. No matter how great the temptation was, he always managed to control himself.

And then he couldn’t.

As he slowly turned into a man, he quickly realized just how innocent his thoughts used to be. He thought of them as wrong and sick, but really, they were nothing compared to what he began imagining as he grew. He used to want to hug Dean, to kiss him. He wanted to worship his body, kiss and lick at every single inch, and he really did mean every one of them. He wished to feel Dean’s hands on his own body, on his cock, his fingers running through Sam’s hair and pulling him into a kiss. All of these, he considered them wrong, but now they just seemed like naïve, simple little things. Those that followed were worse, got so, so much worse, his imagination going wild as Dean turned into a man. Those long eyelashes, those broad shoulders and toned chest, that gorgeous body was like a wake-up call to all of Sam’s sexual desires, which crept up on his slowly, until he couldn’t escape. He began fantasizing about twisted things; about holding Dean down and taking him by force. He imagined his brother screaming and moaning, not always from pleasure, imagined him begging like a slut and presenting himself like a bitch in heat. He saw him with his mind’s eyes, tied to a bed or on his knees, always begging, always loving it, except when he didn’t, when he was crying and shouting at him to stop, to please stop because it hurt. But Sam never listened, never stopped, taking him apart piece by piece, until there was nothing left. He jerked off while thinking of Dean, of what his tight, warm hole could do to him, how fucking him would feel like. He couldn’t stop those thoughts anymore so he tried relishing in them, encouraging the fantasies which became darker and darker, not always about sweet love making. Many times, they involved rape, blood, hatred and betrayal, tears and more blood. And most of the times they ended with Dean leaving or beating him, spitting in his face and telling him how much he hated him, with cold and emotionless eyes.

Because that’s what Sam deserved. Even in his dreams, he knew that he was sick, that he was a fucked up monster and that he’d deserve to be treated like one.

But he got too immersed in his own little imagination land, not realizing how it was starting to affect the real world. Only when he found himself standing inches away from his brother who just got out of the shower, with only a towel wrapped around his waist, and leaning close to inhale the intoxicating scent of Dean’s bodywash, did he notice that he had fallen too long, too far.

Dean gave him a look and called him a weirdo, but that was it for him. For Sam, it was the sudden realization that he couldn’t continue like this, couldn’t keep doing this, or else he might snap. One day, he might decide that he has had enough of trying to imagine his brother’s screams and he wants to hear them for real.

And he couldn’t afford that to happen. Not now, not ever.

So he did the only thing he could think of, and he bailed. He was already thinking of taking a break for some time now, and this was the best opportunity to do so. Neither his brother or dad liked the idea, and Dean even got angry, refusing to let him leave. It nearly made him want to stay, but then he reminded himself just why exactly he needed to go. So when Dean grabbed his arm, threatening to never let go, Sam could smile at him and tell him that it’s for the best, that they’d keep in touch, call every day, and everything would be fine.

That he was fine, like _always_.

And when he got to Stanford, he ditched his phone and started a new life, hoping to leave everything behind, including these rotten feelings, this toxic love he had for Dean.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

That, obviously, did not work out.

Dean found him after some years, dragging him back into the life of monsters and hunters, with Death constantly looming over them. And Sam was so glad, because he managed to distract himself with Jess, his best friend and lover, but then everything was snatched from him and he was thrown back into the nightmare he has been escaping from.

All the feelings he kept hidden in the very back of his mind, suppressed for years, came flooding back as he saw Dean. He grew, got manlier and so, so hot. Sam thought he was going to have a heart attack right there, when he realized who he mistook for a robber was. And then it just got worse as time went by, as they lost dad, lived and died for each other, got possessed and cut deals with demons and the Devil himself. He watched as Dean changed in front of his eyes, turning into a real, drop-dead gorgeous man, and it was so fucking hard not to reach out and touch. Not to hurt, because Dean was Dean, flirting in bars, flashing dirty grins that sent blood rushing to Sam’s dick.

When he went to Hell, he was tortured in the worst ways possible. Lucifer saw him for who he truly was, knew just the right tools to use, using his brother to inflict pains worse than physical on the hunter. And when he finally got out and got his memories back, he realized just how close his soulless self was to rape Dean. He thought about it, wouldn’t have had any problem just knocking the older man unconscious and tie him down, then fuck him just like that. And he might have done it, too, but then Sam was back thanks to the Horseman. And he was so sad, but glad, as well.

When Dean disappeared in Purgatory, he didn’t know what to do, so he went back to his selfish ways and ignored it. He couldn’t get to that place and, without the constant temptation that his brother was, Sam wouldn’t have to suffer any longer. He found himself another woman, another distraction, but just like before, that didn’t last too long either.

And now here he was, back with Dean, on the road towards a hunt.

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. He really didn’t need this trip down memory lane, would much rather deny that it all happened. But it wasn’t like he could ignore the heat that always swept through his body and made his skin burn and tingle, the way he just couldn’t breathe normally when he was around Dean, his own brother, who was sitting right next to him, behind the steering wheel.

His damn brother was like sex on legs for him, like meat dangling on a hook in front of his eyes, and it was a constant reminder why he left for Stanford in the first place.

And even though it was worse than torture, Sam was able to suppress it all and keep a straight face, play cool and not drool over his brother whenever they spoke or were hanging out, no matter how close that human embodiment of sin got to him.

So, yeah, when Dean turned his head to look at him and flashed him a smirk, Sam managed not to grab his face and crush their lips together, which did not mean that it wasn’t fucking hard, though.

“So,” he said with that persistent smirk that Sam loathed and adored, “world’s unluckiest hospital, or the staff just got to helping the patients to fall asleep by fluffing their pillows, violently and in their faces?”

“Or it’s a monster,” Sam repeated himself for the umpteenth time. “I know it sounds like there isn’t a case here, but it’s not like only eighty years olds are suddenly meeting their not-so-untimely deaths.”

“Yeah, okay, but all those deaths were explained.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “And you seriously believe them?”

Dean snorted. “’Course not. Just wasn’t thinking along the lines of monsters, that’s all.”

Sam found a case yesterday as he surfed the web, reading through articles in utter boredom. Strange deaths have been occurring in a hospital in Oregon. They weren’t the “Someone’s legs got chopped off and their arms got accidentally stuck in a blender” kind of strange, but more like patients of all age have been suffering heart attacks. And only around two out of ten of the victims were in the conditions that, if their hearts stopped, it wouldn’t have caused that much of a surprise and confusion. But most of the victims were young, some even kids who were only checked in the hospital for a broken leg or something less lethal. None of the victims seemed to be suffering from heart diseases, so all these sudden heart attacks couldn’t have been normal.

He nagged Dean until his brother gave in and agreed on checking it out, but even though he tried looking uninterested and skeptical about the whole thing, Sam knew his brother too well. A good liar can spot another one’s lies nearly instantaneously.

“Let’s just go in and play good cop bad cop on some of the nurses and doctors, maybe stick around a little longer if things seem even the least bit fishy,” he suggested, sneaking a glance at Dean, who just shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

“Sure, but if this’ll turn out to be a great big waste of my precious time, I’m taking my frustration out on you,” his brother said, keeping a serious face for a moment, before grinning at Sam. “And maybe on your hair.”

“Would you stop with the hair? Has it ever hurt your manliness, Dean? Has it offended you?” Sam rolled his eyes and looked away, only able to keep his eyes on his brother for so long, especially if aforementioned brother was wearing a wicked grin on his face, which was doing some nasty things to the younger man’s body.

“Nah, I just like threatening you with it,” he heard his brother answer, then they were both silent again, at least until the large white building of the hospital came into view. “What do you say we go in together, ask around a bit, then split up?”

“And then meet up back at the entrance?” Sam asked, and Dean nodded. “Alright, sounds good.”

They drove the rest of the way to the hospital, then picked a secluded spot in the parking lot, before getting out of the car and entering the building. They had their FBI suits on, their fake badges in their inner pockets, and as soon as they were inside, they got into character, the change coming naturally.

“Excuse me,” Dean said as he stepped forward to block a man’s path. He was wearing a long white coat, so he was most probably a doctor, which was exactly what they needed. “Hey, hello. I’m Agent Johnson, and this is my partner, Agent Scott. We’re here about the recent chain of deaths that have occurred in this hospital.”

The doctor—a middle-aged man with graying hair and dark stubble reaching the early stages of a beard—scowled and gave them both a once-over, then crossed his arms and shot them a questioning look.

“Why would the FBI deem necessary to investigate deaths that have already been explained?” he asked suspiciously.

“Right, about these explanations…” Sam stepped forward, using his height to stare the doctor down and kind of intimidate him into cooperating. “I’d like to meet the one tending to the bodies of the victims. I feel like those so called explanations were a bit rushed.”

“Victims?” The doctor shook his head incredulously. “Gentlemen, these were not murders. The patients that we have lost were not victims of anything, aside from a sudden change of fate.”

“Because that many heart attacks are purely coincidental and totally not weird, at all,” Dean said with a small scoff, before narrowing his eyes at the man. “Those people were the victims of _something_ , and we were sent here to find out what. Now, are you going to interfere with a federal investigation and make us have a chat with your boss, or will you answer our questions instead?”

The doctor’s gaze stayed fixated on Dean for a long moment, the gears probably turning in his head as he considered the thought of kicking them out and if it would be worth it, then he must have reached a decision, because he was sighing. He took a small step back and gave them a reluctant nod of acknowledgement, before motioning to a hallway.

“You may ask our nurses on this and the third floor. Not everyone knows much, as most of our nurses work the night shift and are therefore absent at the moment, but I honestly doubt you’ll need their testimony as well. It’s not a mystery, what happened.”

“Then how about we start with you?” Dean raised his eyebrows at the man, and Sam immediately recognized that smug look on his face. All he was missing was the sly smirk and then his brother would have the perfect weapon against Sam’s heart.

The doctor’s eyelid twitched as he suppressed an irritated look. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Have you felt cold spots lately? Any strange behavior concerning some of the patients or staff?” he asked, but the man just frowned and shook his head.

“No, none that I’m aware of,” he said cautiously. “What does the temperature have to do with the deaths?”

“That’s on a need-to-know basis,” Sam blurted. He always wanted to say that, and he flashed a cocky grin at his brother when Dean rolled his eyes. He then looked back at the doctor, and said, “So about the one who labeled these as accidents…”

“That would be Doctor Medina. She was present at most of these tragic deaths, and I know what you agents must be thinking, but she had nothing to do with them. I have several witnesses placing the doctor to another part of the hospital at the same time as some of the patients passed away,” he stated.

“Well, talking to her couldn’t hurt, could it?” Dean looked at Sam, then back at the doctor. “Alright, how about you show my partner where this lady doctor is while I interrogate some of your nurses?”

Sam gave his brother an odd look, but he didn’t have to ask. Seeing that meaningful smile on his face told him everything, and so he turned to the doctor with a silent sigh.

“Right this way,” the doctor said as he began walking down a corridor, Sam following him after glancing back over his shoulder and watching his brother scanning the place. He just knew that Dean was going to deliberately choose the hottest nurses to talk to, maybe even use his undeniable charm to get some phone numbers, and even though the knowledge still hurt, it wasn’t as bad as before. He got used to it, forced himself to get used to it down the years, and now it was easier to accept.

Easier did not mean completely fine, so he needed a moment to realize that they arrived at the doctor’s office, snapping out of his brooding state and flashing a small, grateful smile at the man standing impatiently next to him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled and raised his hand to knock, “I’ve got it from here.”

“If you have any more questions, just ask my assistant,” was all the man said, before turning on his heel and marching off.

Sam watched him disappear behind a door, and after making sure that he looked more like an FBI agent than a possible patient, he knocked on the door.

“Come on in!” a female voice urged, and when Sam opened the door, she was already up and heading toward his with a bright look on her face.

“Doctor Medina?” He extended an arm for a handshake, which the woman accepted, her smile only growing when their hands touched. She seemed to be around his age, maybe a few years younger, with light gray eyes and striking black hair that reached her breasts. She was very pretty, and Sam might have even felt attracted to her if he wasn’t desperately in love already.

Her gray eyes quickly looked him over, before stopping at his own hazel ones. “That’s right,” she said with that smile plastered across her face, before slightly cocking her head. “What can I help you with, agent?”

“I’m that obvious?” Sam glanced down at his suit, then looked back up when he heard the woman laughing.

“No, I’m just good at reading people,” she mentioned, shrugging. “So, an agent in our hospital… Am I right to assume this has something to do with the recent deaths?”

“Yes. I’ve heard from one of the doctors that it was you who refused to see them as murders?”

“You heard right.” The woman sauntered over to her desk and leaned against it, her eyes never leaving him. “Why? Do you think otherwise?”

“Believe that they weren’t just accidental? Yeah. That many victims in such a short period of time, ranging from the age of eight to eighty, cannot be purely coincidental.”

“But what if they are?” she asked with a clear hint of skepticism in her voice. “You FBI guys are always so fast on assuming that everything’s a murder. There’s always a black and white, a culprit and a victim… a hunter and a hunted. You never stop to consider that, maybe, some things aren’t as they appear to be.”

He stared at the more and more suspicious doctor for a short while, before asking, “So then what are they, if not murders?”

“Fate,” she stated, the smile slowly creeping back onto her face. “Those people were the victims of fate, simple poor, unlucky souls. Their time came too early, but it had to happen. A machine malfunctioning here, the wrong dosage of pills there; they’re all fate’s handiwork and we cannot do anything to stop it.”

“That’s it, then? You’re just going to blame it all on a concept? On the so-called inevitable? Sure, death is in itself inevitable, but these people didn’t have to die. Nobody does.”

“That’s interesting, coming from you,” the woman remarked as she pushed herself away from the desk and walked over to Sam.

He furrowed his brow, narrowing his eyes at her when she stopped in front of him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of deaths, as an agent. And I’m even more certain that you took some lives yourself, with these two hands…”

She took his hands in hers, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she raised them, but before she could’ve done anything else, Sam quickly took a step back and yanked his hands out of the woman’s grip. There was something up with this woman, he was sure of it, but he didn’t know if she was involved with these strange murders or if she was simply…odd.

The tense silence stretched into a minute, before the doctor let out a small chuckle and walked past him. “If you’re so Hell-bent on figuring out this hospital’s mystery deaths, why don’t you follow me to the morgue? Let me show you just how wrong you are, agent,” she purred, a devious grin crossing her face upon seeing Sam’s doubtful expression. “Don’t worry,” she added, “I won’t eat you.”

But Sam wasn’t that sure about that. Still, getting a look at the deceased would help in their investigation, so after a moment of thinking, he gave her a reluctant nod, to which her eyes lit up with something akin to excitement.

“Great!” she declared rather cheerfully, then was out of the room in a second, motioning Sam to follow her down the hallway. He did, both of them silent until they reached the door to the morgue, which was when the woman turned her head to smile at him. “I suppose I don’t need to warn you about this not being a sight for those with weak stomachs.”

“Nope, you don’t,” he stated, then followed the doctor inside once she opened the door.

The hospital morgue looked like a huge lab, with tables scattered around the room. However they weren’t your everyday tables, but necropsy ones, with a sink at one end. The far wall was covered by a block of refrigerators, and another wall was lined up with a series of sinks and large cabinets. Sam glanced around the room, but it was just like every other morgue he’s been to, with the same chill that made him shiver and the same distinct smell of cleaning products and other things in the air.

When he was done scanning the room, he spotted the doctor at the freezer and joined her, watching as she pulled out one tray after the other, all with bodies on them, and after a while Sam found himself asking her to stop. He was used to seeing corpses, but all those kids…

“Sorry about that,” she said with a thin smile as she pushed some of them back, only leaving three dead bodies out for Sam to inspect.

He gazed at the one female and two male corpses, then turned to look at the smiling doctor. “So, all heart attacks? And not one of them was suspicious enough to make you think that, maybe, these weren’t accidental deaths after all?”

She shook her head, and then suddenly closed the distance between them.

Taking Sam a bit off-guard, she managed to back him into the cold surface of the freezer, her smile widening when he gave her a confused a slightly annoyed look.

“Such a handsome, _young_ man shouldn’t ask so many questions,” she said in a honeyed voice, raising her hand to Sam’s cheek. “Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong…naughty boy.”

“Get your hand off me,” Sam warned and grabbed her wrist, ripping her hand away from his skin. He wondered what the hell got into her, but when he heard his name, all thoughts about the woman left his mind and his head whipped toward the door.

“Sam!” Dean’s disembodied voice was louder this time, and after a few seconds his brother appeared in the room.

That is, after he kicked the door in.

“Dean?” He looked at his pissed-off brother in slight confusion, before quickly pushing the woman away from him, but she was hissing at him and shoving him back into the freezer.

“Damn hunters, can’t you two just stay separated and let me pick you off one by one?” the doctor snarled, then suddenly, her slender fingers were wrapped around Sam’s throat and digging into his flesh.

He wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on, but apparently they found their monster. Said monster was kind of in the process of choking him, which wasn’t very professional, but he’d get over it. As soon as he’d stop choking.

“Let him go, you nasty old hag,” Dean growled as he aimed a gun at the woman and placed his thumb on the hammer, slowly pulling it back. His brother and his momentary captor engaged in a heated stare-off for approximately ten seconds, before finally she let go of Sam’s throat, but did not step away from him.

“Look at me! Old hag?” she sneered, baring her teeth at Dean, while Sam coughed and hoped to soon stop doing so. “I am young!”

“Yeah, thanks to all those poor bastards lying in there,” Dean said, motioning at the freezer with his gun.

Sam glanced at the dead bodies on top of the trays, frowning, then at Dean.

“She’s a witch, Sam,” his brother stated while glaring at the woman who was still refusing to move.

“Witch? How did you figure that out?” he asked, while trying to sneakily grab the knife hidden in his pants, but soon found himself unable to move as the woman mumbled something and flashed that ugly sneering at him. Sam cursed under his breath, struggling against the invisible force keeping him in place. He really hated this power, and now he had to realize that demons weren’t the only ones possessing it.

Fucking fantastic.

Once done smirking at him, the witch glared at Dean. “Yes, how did you figure it out, big brother?”

Sam felt a strange sort of alarm when she said that, his eyes widening as he looked from the woman to Dean. How on earth did she know that?

But Dean didn’t seem that bothered by it, or at least he didn’t show any signs of it. “Got you on tape. The guards are obviously out of it, not remembering anything, which was already suspicious. Then I checked the security tapes and one of them had you…sucking something from one of the patients, moments before their heart stopped. And judging from the fact that you still had some wrinkles on the tape, I’m pretty sure that it’s safe to assume that you’re a witch, as they’re known for stealing years of peoples’ lives. Especially by playing poker.”

“A doctor stealing the remaining years of their patients…” Sam scoffed, snarling at the woman because he was seriously fed up with being trapped like some useless fly in a spider’s web. “They should fire you.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Dean said with a dark grin. “How about we relieve you of your job? And your life.”

The witch snorted. “How original. Did you stay up yesterday night, thinking hard, just to come up with this?”

“I try.” He shrugged, then took a few steps forward and placed his finger on the trigger. “Now, let go of my brother, or I’ll start decorating your body with holes.”

“How scary. But you won’t do anything while poor little Winchester is still so close to me, will you?”

“Alright, how the fuck do you know that?” Sam demanded, feelings like anger, confusion and a bit of panic washing over his body at the mention of his real identity.

She grinned, glancing from an even more pissed-off looking Dean at Sam. “I told you—I’m good at reading people. And their minds,” she said, then leaned closer, way too close, and whispered, “And I wonder how your big brother would feel if he knew what goes on in your head, Sam Winchester…”

That made his stomach drop and he was pretty sure he could feel the blood draining from his face as the witch pulled back and winked at him. He swallowed thickly, the panic quickly overtaking both anger and confusion, then he nearly let out a surprised gasp as he heard Dean’s commanding voice.

“Sam? What is it, what did she say?”

His brother was looking at him expectantly, and maybe a bit worriedly, but Sam couldn’t tell him. Then even the witch raised an eyebrow at him and her grin grew, giving her a rather eerie Cheshire cat look.

“Yes, Sam, what did I say? Why don’t you share with you brother?”

“Bitch,” he spat, found himself cursing the woman as anger came back to him. Afraid and angry, he glared daggers at her and thrashed in place, still unable to move, which just fuelled his growing irritation. “Dean,” he barked, now glaring at his brother, “just shoot her. As long as you don’t shoot me in the head or torso, I’ll be fine. Just fucking shoot this son of a bitch!”

Seemingly hesitating, his brother looked from Sam to the witch, then back to Sam, then finally nodded. “Fine. Don’t move,” he said as he aimed at the still grinning woman, and then squeezed off a shot.

It all happened so quickly, Sam wasn’t even sure he saw it right. Dean pulled the trigger and shot the woman, or at least would have, if she wouldn’t have moved out of the way with incredible speed and agility. The bullet ricocheted from the metal surface and grazed Dean’s calf, distracting him for a moment, which was exactly what the witch needed. She was suddenly in front of Sam, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling, until her lips were brushing the shell of his ear.

“I’ve heard your heart’s desire, and what kind of doctor would I be if I didn’t at least try to cure you? Don’t say I never did anything for you…” she whispered, then tightened her grip on his hair as she caught his lips in a quick kiss.

He struggled hopelessly, trying to bite her or something, but the kiss was over before he could’ve done anything. Even the invisible force was gone too, so now he could finally get to his knife and—

But killing the witch didn’t seem important anymore. Suddenly, he could only think of one thing. Only one word, one name kept repeating itself in his mind, and a strange calm descended on him as he felt himself relax, then get excited. His breathing quickened until he was panting, his chest heaving as his heartbeat accelerated, and suddenly all he could feel was lust. So much lust, a burning desire he’s been keeping locked for far too long, too damn long. Every shred of doubt, every single one left him in an instant, and his whole body was aching and itching, his skin tingling, his heart bleeding from the overwhelming love and lust that filled him, coursing through his veins instead of his boiling blood. All the blood was rushing to his dick, and he was packing one painful erection in a matter of seconds, and just like that, he was torn between wanting to fuck and needing to hug. And it kept torturing him for what seemed like minutes, but were surely mere seconds, before he couldn’t take it anymore and he snapped, the witch’s magic doing something to him and turning him into a man without morals, the monster he hoped never to become.

And without the leash, the beast was hungry, and nothing could stop it from claiming the meat right in front of its eyes.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Well, that hurt.

He didn’t expect for it to be a one shot kill, for the bullet to get imbedded in the witch’s brain and kill her instantaneously, but getting hit by his own bullet seemed even less likely.

The bullet only grazed him, true, but his leg was bleeding and it hurt.

Dean hissed at the wound, as if that would stop the bleeding or something, then realized that the witch was, disappointingly, still alive and breathing. He quickly snapped out of it and ignored the pulsing pain in his calf, and pointed the gun back at the witch. However she moved, standing way too damn close to Sam, meaning if he was to shoot and she’d jump out of the way again, there was a hundred percent chance he’d hit his brother.

Cursing inwardly, Dean decided to close some of the distance between him and his target, maybe grab her and make sure she couldn’t escape this time, but then stopped in his tracks as he saw the witch grab Sam’s hair.

And then she pulled him down into a kiss.

Standing there, mesmerized by what the fuck just happened, Dean needed a moment before he composed himself and shot a glare to the witch’s direction.

“Really? Was that some sort of last deed before you die?” he asked mockingly, but the woman’s pompous demeanor wasn’t filling him with positive thoughts.

“Just creating an attack dog to keep you busy,” she said with one of her smug grins, before stepping out of the way and pointing at him. “Come on Sammy, you know what to do.”

He scowled, wondering what she was talking about, but the attack dog part was suddenly making sense as he looked at his brother.

Holy crap, Sam looked…horny?

“Uh…Sam?” Dean lowered his gun and took a step back as he looked his brother over. Something was most definitively wrong with him. He was panting like he just ran a marathon, was staring at Dean with slightly wide eyes and his pupils seemed way too dilated, eclipsing his irises. And the look in those eyes made him back away some more, his own heart starting to beat faster in his chest as his fight or flight instincts kicked in.

His own brother was terrifying him, because no matter how he looked, Sam was definitively undressing him with his eyes.

“Dean,” he drawled, his voice deep and somewhat raspy, and when he licked his lips in a way that couldn’t have been dirtier even if he tried, Dean held his breath. “Come here.”

It was more of an order than a plea, the sheer amount of what he hoped wasn’t lust in Sam’s voice, eyes, and fucking everything, making the older hunter choose flight over reasoning with his bewitched brother. He backed into the door, holstered his gun, then managed to stay and glare at Sam until the very moment his brother let out the nastiest fucking chuckle he ever heard. After that, Dean ran away with his tail tucked between his legs, and even though he knew that killing the witch might turn his brother back into a normal person instead of this thing in heat, right now he just needed to get away from Sam.

He recognized the look on his brother’s face, and no matter how shocking and simply unbelievable it was, he knew that Sam was ready to do some unforgivable things to him if he were to catch him. That damn witch just had to go and choose such a fucked up spell to use on the poor man, but that was fine. Dean was going to be a good brother and make sure Sam stayed well away from him, make sure he wouldn’t have to blame himself for anything once back to normal. He promised that to himself as he rushed down the corridor, but he had to wonder if the witch gave Sam some kind of super-speed too, because crap, he watch fast.

Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest and he had to remind himself that this wasn’t a hunt, he wasn’t running from a monster, his life wasn’t in danger. But no matter how much he forced himself to believe that, he was still panicking, the role of the hopeless prey suiting him way too much. And Sam was catching up to him, fast, even though Dean was changing corridors every chance he got, pulled off some sweet slalom moves as he slid past staff and blue robed patients.

“Sam, cut it out!” he shouted when he glanced back over his shoulder, the sight that welcomed him only driving him on more. Damn it, he was legit scared, adrenaline pumping through his body as he ran for his life.

He heard Sam’s laugh from behind him as he shouldered open a door and kept running, never stopped running. “Dean, come on! Stop running from me! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Yeah, right. He didn’t even want to think of what Sam could and would do if he’d get his hands on Dean. The possibility itself made him shudder and run faster, and people were yelling at them now. A few white figures tried to grab at him and stop him, but Dean just shrugged them off or, when they were really persistent, even gave them a harsh shove, sometimes deliberately pushing them in his delirious brother’s way. It was a low and dirty move, and rather rude, but he was scared and confused, so he didn’t care right now. He never, not even once, thought that one day he’d end up running from his brother like this. And maybe running wasn’t the best option, either, but talking to him in this frenzied state he was in couldn’t possibly be a great idea. Maybe threatening or beating him up might work, but that would involve getting close to Sam, and one wrong move would be all it’d take for his brother to get the upper hand. And Dean didn’t want to find out what Sam had in mind for him…

He was getting out of breath now, knew he was slowing down. Thinking that he had no other choice but to pull out his gun and shoot Sam in the leg, Dean muttered a silent apology for his brother as he took out the gun, then felt a sudden wave of hope as he spotted an elevator just down the corridor. He pushed on, giving it his everything and crossing the corridor in mere seconds, then nearly felt like laughing as the elevator doors slid open just before he reached it. Men and women spilled out of the elevator and, as soon as they were out, Dean elbowed his way in and punched the button leading to the furthest from the current floor he was on.

He leaned against the wall as the doors slid back in place, letting out a long sigh of relief and catching his breath; however just before the doors could have met at the middle, they stopped. A hand forced its way into the small opening and suddenly the elevator was opening again, and Dean watched in horror as his brother stepped into the enclosed space, the doors slowly closing behind him and sealing them inside. Sam flashed him a dark grin, biting down on his lower lip as his eyes roamed the freaked-out hunter’s body, then Dean felt his heart sink when his brother turned to the elevator’s button panel and pushed the red emergency stop button.

“No escaping me now, Dean,” Sam growled as the elevator shuddered to a sudden halt.

He tried to keep calm as he slowly raised the gun and pointed it at Sam, putting on a serious expression when Sam’s grin widened, and hoping that this version of his brother couldn’t smell fear.

“Don’t move,” he warned, thankful that at least his voice seemed to be working properly and sounding stern.

Sam stepped forward at the same time as Dean pushed his back into the wall behind him. He glanced at the gun in his hands and tilted his head. “Dean, you won’t shoot me.”

“I will. I swear I will, maybe not in your heart, but I’ll fucking shoot your legs from under you. If you move, I won’t hesitate, so you better stay put if you don’t want to get pushed out of this hospital in a wheelchair,” he said threateningly, keeping his glaring eyes on his brother’s feral ones.

Then Sam was frowning, then smiling again, taking another step forward, and Dean lowered the gun to his knees.

“Dean…” His brother’s voice was still filled with something wicked and primal, but sounded softer, somehow. “Don’t do this. Drop the gun and let me take care of you. I would never hurt you, you know that. Please Dean, you have no idea how much I want this, how much I want you…”

And as he listened to his brother, as he looked deep into those puppy eyes, Dean didn’t notice Sam’s hands only until it was too late. He wrapped his fingers around the barrel of the gun and placed his other hand on Dean’s, before gently pulling and taking the gun from him. The weapon was quickly discarded, thrown to a corner of the elevator, and then suddenly the distance between them didn’t exist anymore, Dean’s breath hitching as he felt his brother’s body pressing into his, his eyes widening as Sam held his wrists above his head with one firm hand, while the other slid along his jawline, making him shiver.

“Sam,” he whispered, damn it, his voice weaker than he expected, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Shh, don’t worry,” Sam purred lowly, and Dean was cursing himself, because this situation was supposed to make him angry or maybe disgust him, definitively make him sick, but all felt was a mix of fear and something else, something that made him feel like his whole body was on fire.

He took in a shaky inhale as Sam leaned impossibly closer, his hand caressing his cheek before stopping at his lips, where he used his thumb to gently press down on Dean’s bottom lip and open his lips. And Dean should have gritted his teeth, but instead found himself hesitantly parting his lips, holding his breath as he could feel Sam, feel just how close he was, and then whatever distance was separating them was gone in an instant as his little brother’s lips brushed his, then kissed him.

Dean expected something rough. He was prepared for it to hurt, even, judging from the amount of lust he saw in Sam, with a lot of teeth and maybe blood, violent and greedy, taking everything by force.

He did not expect it to be this tender.

His eyes widened then fluttered shut, and he made a sound as those soft lips pressed against his. He felt Sam’s warm tongue on his lips, slowly teasing his mouth before sliding in and discovering him, licking into his mouth eagerly but gently, always so lovingly. And it confused Dean, all the coy and sheepish moves of Sam’s tongue, the lingering and light kisses that soon turned passionate but never savage, and then seconds passed like this, with him just standing there in shock, before he found himself slowly returning the kiss.

He kissed his brother back, and it was fucking amazing.

Sam nibbled on his bottom lip, then caught Dean’s tongue between his teeth when he finally decided to taste his brother. He made a low sound as Sam began sucking on his tongue, gently nipping at it, then let go and went back to kissing him breathless, Dean sometimes swearing he could hear him growl. He needed to breath, but didn’t want to stop this, felt like everything would break apart if they were to stop, so he forced himself to breathe through his nose and then deepened the kiss. He leaned into it, kissing his brother hotly and until he was moaning, then suddenly pulled away because he was _moaning_.

They stared at each other, both of them panting and filling their lungs with air. Sam’s lips curled into a smirk and moved both his hands down Dean’s body, the older hunter watching his hands in awe as they slid down and down, before finally stopping at his hips. And he felt his face flush with shame and embarrassment, because he was hard, a clear and visible bulge forming in his pants, and then his face and maybe even whole body felt even hotter as he noticed that just like him, Sam was packing one rock hard erection. He swallowed thickly, ripping his gaze away from his brother’s pants, but looking back up at him wasn’t any better; more like jumping from the frying pan into the damn fire.

Sam was staring at him, licking his teeth, with stray strands of hair hanging in front of his eyes and making him look like a hungry wolf. “Dean,” he groaned, and then Dean was bumping the back of his head against the wall, because that asshole dug his fingers into his flesh and began grinding against him. “Dean, so gorgeous… I want you to know how beautiful you are, how much this means to me, just how much I need you…”

And then he was kissing his neck and Dean’s mind went blank.

He leaned his head back and let out a moan, grabbing Sam’s shoulders and holding onto it like he could fall any second, then after a moment of hesitation he was rocking back into his brother’s thrusts, rubbing his clothed cock against Sam’s and loving it.

“Fuck, Sammy,” he panted, curling his fingers and sinking his nails into his brother’s shoulders while Sam just kept on attacking his neck, kissing and licking at it, sucking at several spots and surely leaving marks, especially when he began biting him. His teeth didn’t break the skin and it didn’t hurt too much, just enough for it to feel good, and then he was shivering as cold air touched his bare skin.

He let out a small sound that was most definitively not a whine when Sam freed him of his suit jacket and shirt, then began kissing down his chest, starting with his shoulder, then collarbones, then going all the way to his abdomen. Soon, he was kneeling in front of him, those lips breaking Dean in the best ways possible, then he was back again, kissing up his body before finally reaching his chin. There, he softly nibble the skin, then placed a small kiss on his lips.

“Feelin’ alright?” he asked, but Dean couldn’t speak, didn’t fucking dare speak in fear of it coming out as some sort of needy sound, so he just nodded. Sam smiled at that and gave a gentle nip at his cheek, before flashing him a rather lewd look. “Want more of you, big brother.”

Dean licked his lips and then had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reacting too visibly and loudly when Sam reached for his pants and unbuckled his belt. He was pretty sure that his legs were shaking while his brother unzipped his pants and tugged it down a bit, then slipped his fingers under Dean’s underwear and pulled it down as well, freeing his aching dick.

“Fuck…” he cursed and looked away, but when nothing happened, he was forced to glance back at Sam, who was waiting just for that. He ran his right hand down Dean’s chest, stopping mere inches away from his erection, and placed his other hand on the older hunter’s hips and stroked his skin with his thumb in a way that could have even be called reassuring.

“It’s okay, Dean,” he whispered as he leaned in close, and Dean couldn’t help but fucking whimper when he felt Sam’s warm and wet tongue slide along his ear and then start playing with it, licking and blowing air into it, teasing and nibbling, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sammy, please,” he whined, moving his head and shivering as he locked eyes with his brother. “Fucking tease.”

Sam grinned, then bit his goddamn nose. “Your fault for being adorable.”

“What?” Dean exclaimed, then shut up when he felt Sam’s fingers on his neglected dick, suddenly wrapping around the shaft and giving it a light squeeze. “Oh God…”

Sam’s low chuckle only turning him on even more—which, by the way, was one royally fucked up thing—Dean bucked into the touch and closed his eyes as the hand began moving. Sam’s finger were doing wonders on his cock, making him impossibly hard as his brother used the back of his fingers to caress his length, the digits ghosting over the head before wrapping around it and thumbing his slit, then sliding along the underline of the head and then all the way down to the base. His nails grazed against his skin, hard enough for him to feel it, but just light enough for it not to hurt and instead send waves of pleasure rushing through his whole body. Then after he was finally done teasing him, Sam grabbed his cock and began pumping it, first with slow, drawn-out pulls and drags, then faster and harder, twisting and pulling and sliding his hand just right, in a way that made a moaning mess out of Dean in record time.

“Sammy, Sammy, holy fuck!” he breathed, blinking lazily as he opened his eyes and looked down, then let out a strangled groan at the sight of his brother’s big, strong hand fisting his leaking cock. Not only the view, which was already in itself fucking amazing, but the sounds were also making Dean lose it. The wet and obscene sounds as Sam used his big brother’s pre-come to move his hand faster, skin moving on wet skin, the sort of squelching-like noises that came from that dirty act were making Dean dizzy and thrust into Sam’s hand, trying to desperately fuck his fist.

And Sam did not disappoint. He let Dean buck into each and every stroke, gripping his cock harder and pumping the throbbing flesh even faster, until Dean couldn’t even form words any longer, only make small whimpers, high-pitched moans, and needy little mewls. Then he was gasping and whining at the loss of Sam’s hand when he pulled away, but when he saw what his brother was doing, his breath got caught in his throat.

Sam unzipped himself and took out his cock, which was just as long and thick as his brother’s height suggested. It was already dripping pre-come, had veins bulging under his skin, and was nice and delicious-looking, making Dean’s mouth water, which was not twisted at all.

“See something you like?” Sam raised an eyebrow at him, and Dean realized that he must have been gaping at his brother’s cock for a bit too long. He was certain that he was blushing like some damn virgin as he averted his gaze, but then Sam’s burning cock brushed against his and all thoughts of his rapidly shrinking manliness left him. “Oh fuck, Dean, feels so good like this,” his brother groaned into his ear as he rubbed against him, then Dean wanted to kind of start sobbing in pleasure when he felt Sam’s long fingers wrapping around both of their dicks as much as he could, and then began stroking them.

Dean kept on repeating his brother’s name and inventing some rather creative curses as Sam’s hard, thick and fucking hot cock slid up and down along his own. They were both humping each other like rabbits, grinding and thrusting hard, all the while Sam pumped their pulsing cocks in rhythm with their fervent push and pulls, and showering Dean with kisses. He kissed him back as many times as he could, since most of the times his mouth was busy with moaning so loudly that whoever was standing in front of the elevator knew exactly what they were doing. It was all so good, better than anything, the pleasure ripping some of the most wanton and obscene sounds from his throat as he wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and held onto dear life, mewling desperately as his brother licked and stroked and kissed and pulled and clawed and bit and fucking _destroyed_ him.

They were both dirty, fast and rough, Dean raking his fingers down Sam’s back while he bit down on the older man’s neck and shoulders, this time breaking the skin and drawing blood, but that just made him scream louder. And then he could see white spots in his vision and he gasped, before crying out as his orgasm slammed through him, his come painting his abdomen and adding slick to Sam’s strokes. Soon after Dean felt his muscles strain then relax, he made a small moan as he felt and heard his brother coming, his come landing on Dean’s cock and stomach, and Sam’s low mix of a groan and a growl sending a shiver down his spine.

They stood there, panting and spent, for a while longer, before Sam placed a soft kiss on one of the bleeding wounds on Dean’s shoulder and pulling back. His brother grinned at him, licking his lips as he glanced down at Dean’s cock and come coated body, his grin only widening at the embarrassed look on the hunter’s face.

He cleared his throat and picked up his shirt and suit jacket, quickly cleaning himself and tucking his softening dick back in his underwear. He stayed silent as he pulled his pants back on, not really knowing what to say or how to even start saying anything. Yeah, there was just no good way to start a conversation after having sex with his brother.

Sam didn’t seem to be in a rush to talk either, leisurely putting his own clothes back on. Then he picked up Dean’s gun and held it out for him, Dean reluctantly taking it from him and holstering it. And just when he thought they were going to stay like this, mute for the rest of the day, Sam moved closer to him and smiled.

“Told you I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he said as he raised a hand to Dean’s face and caressed his cheek. It was with the same hand he jerked them off, but he tried not to think too much about that specific piece of information, and instead flashed a sheepish smile at his brother, while trying not to act like a total girl and grow a vagina or something.

“Yeah, well excuse me, but the way you rushed me had me thinking that this wouldn’t be such a…pleasant thing,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes when Sam’s smile widened.

“A pleasant thing, huh?” Sam chuckled, then opened his mouth to say something, but froze. His pupils that Dean noticed were still dilated suddenly shrunk back to normal, and an utter look of horror crossed his brother’s face as he immediately backed away, staring at Dean with wide eyes.

“Sam?” Dean blinked in confusion, especially when he felt the ache in his chest and the bubble of panic forming in him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

His brother looked like a scared animal. His eyes darted across the elevator, then stopped to stare at Dean for a long moment, before glancing down at himself and, oh god, Sam looked like he was going to break down any second.

“Fuck…” His voice was barely a whisper and Dean had to strain his ears to hear him as he took a careful step toward him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! No, no, why?”

“Sam, you’re scaring me. Come on, man, what the hell’s got—”

But he was cut off by his brother, who looked at him with eyes shining from the tears that threatened to escape him. “What’s wrong? Seriously, Dean? I just…” He raised a shaking hand to his face and quickly rubbed his eyes, but it was no use, he was already crying. “I forced… I raped you.”

And now he understood. It was just the witch’s magic that made Sam like that, turned him into a horny beast. The real Sam was terrified and disgusted by the acts, already breaking down in tears now that the magic was somehow gone.

So what was Dean’s excuse for loving every second of it?

He felt like crying as well, now, because he had to realize that all the feelings he just discovered toward his brother were dreams. Just shit he’d have to forget, because his brother never loved him the way Dean loved him now, never really liked touching him, never meant anything he said. It hurt so goddamn much, feeling like he was going to hyperventilate or have a mental breakdown, the pain and betrayal, this fucked up rollercoaster of emotions too damn great. He forced himself to take deep breaths and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, until it hurt, until he was bleeding, but the pain was still nothing compared to the ashamed and frightened look on Sam’s face.

He could never have his brother like that ever again, got his hopes up for nothing, and now everything, along with his heart, got crushed to pieces.

“S’fine…” Dean said after he found his voice, but it was weak, threatening to break and show just how much he was hurting under the mask. “It wasn’t really you doin’ it, so it’s…fine.”

But Sam was shaking his head, more tears streaming down his face, and Dean made a silent whimper, praying to whoever was listening to just make it stop, take his soul and feelings away, he couldn’t take it, it hurt so fucking much.

“No, you don’t get it,” Sam said, sniffing as he crouched down, then sat leaning against the wall. He pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his legs, and Dean wanted to hug him so much, kiss away those tears and make him feel better, so, so much better. “I did it, can’t say it wasn’t me, Dean. It was all me and I’m so fucking sorry, I never meant for this to happen, tried so hard for it never to happen. Shit, Dean, I’m so sorry…”

That made him frown, confused. It was as if Sam was talking about a longer period of time and not just today, but that was impossible, since the witch one cast the spell on him like an hour ago.

“Sam, she used magic on you. You were literally bewitched, so come on, stop blaming yourself,” he said instead, deciding to ignore the previous comment. “Dean,” Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair, then looked up at him with red, cried-out eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? She used a spell on me, sure, but it wasn’t what you think… It didn’t change me completely. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing and tell me what you’re talking about!” he snapped, walking over to his brother and kneeling down in front of him to glare at the broken man.

Sam sniffled and stared at his knees until Dean began playing with the thought of just kissing his brother until he’d finally start speaking, but then Sam was looking back at him with those damned puppy eyes.

“She just erased my doubts, Dean. I’ve been wanting to do this for years. Ever since I hit puberty, ever since I knew what sex was, I’ve been…in love with you.”

He needed a second, or maybe a minute, to process that information, and when he finally did, before he could’ve said or done anything, Sam was already standing up and smiling at him like a kicked puppy.

“Sorry. I know it’s sick and that’s why I never told you, why I never did anything. But now I did and I know you must hate me now, I mean—”

But it was Dean’s turn to interrupt, and he did so by shoving his stupid, fucking idiotic little brother into the wall and kissing him. He didn’t actually plan for the kiss to happen; he just wanted to give him a good shove and then shout his head off. But emotions got the better of him and then he wasn’t only shoving Sam into the wall, but his tongue into his brother’s mouth, kissing him hard and deeply, biting at his lip until Sam stopped resisting. When he did, Dean softened the kiss and pressed their chests flush together, trying to be as gentle and loving as possible and hoping his clueless brother would pick up on the damn signs already.

Sam returned the kiss after the longest moment, slowly placing a hand on the back of Dean’s neck and pulling him even closer, kissing him passionately. Dean smiled against his brother’s lips, because he seemed to be finally getting it, then kept licking and biting and kissing for a while longer, before pulling away and licking his lips.

“Does it look like I hate you, Sammy? Did it look like I was disgusted while you touched me? Did anything I say suggest that it wasn’t the best fucking experience in my entire life?” he asked, then couldn’t help but laugh at the look his brother gave him.

“What…but why?” Sam blinked away some more tears, then when that didn’t help, he quickly wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his suit.

“What why? Why did I love it?” Dean asked with a shrug. “Probably because the one doing it was someone dear to me, someone I love way more than I would’ve ever thought…” he said and smiled, then added, just in case, “I love you, Sam. Same way you do. And honestly, I think you really should have gotten attacked by a witch, like way sooner.”

Sam stared at him, then smiled, and the burst out laughing. He pulled Dean into a bone-crushing hug, then glanced at his lips when he eased away, hesitating only a moment before slowly kissing him. Dean rolled his eyes and kissed him back until both of them needed some air, unless they wanted to suffocate thanks to the other’s tongue.

“I still can’t believe it,” Sam said, the smile never leaving his face. “You never once showed any interest in anything not-so-brotherly.”

“Yeah, well you never tried, have you? So I didn’t think of you that way, though I’m pretty sure that I had some hidden desires toward you, buried deep down, otherwise I would have at least tried to put up a fight.”

Sam smirked, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face as his hands slowly trailed down his back, and his eyes lit up when Dean smiled.

“So…” he said, clearing his throat and placing a quick kiss on Sam’s chin. “You said you’ve been wanting to do this for a while now, huh? What else is there that you’ve been fantasizing about, Sammy?”

His brother’s smirk turned into a grin as his hands reached Dean’s ass and gently groped it. “How about I show you?”

“Catching up on the years we could have spent having some hot, kinky sex? Sounds perfect to me,” Dean purred, knowing that this was so wrong but so right, and he loved his brother so everybody could just go and kindly fuck off.

And sure, they still had to wait for the elevator to open and then explain some rather embarrassing things to the staff while still making sure they knifed their witch doctor, but that was fine, because finally, they were together the way they were always supposed to be—like brothers, lovers, and soulmates.

 


End file.
